


To Move On

by FluffyKnight



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Sans is very confused, Timeline Shenanigans, so is everyone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyKnight/pseuds/FluffyKnight
Summary: A mysterious force has transported Sans into another timeline that Sans has never witnessed before.





	1. Confusion

The first thing when Sans asked himself in confusion when he became self-aware of the fact that he was currently surrounded in darkness was wherein star's name, was he? The darkness itself was webbing itself around him, like being caught in a net of pure blackness. But at the same time, the darkness felt... oddly fluid. It was as if Sans was dumped into an abnormally thin-fluid layered pool of tar.

He moved his hands around the darkness after realizing that he was mobile, almost expecting his hand to have a fluid-like substance stained on his bones. He took in the smell of the unknown abyss, his naval cavity twitching like a dog's nose would.

The smell that hit his naval cavity wasn't something that he expected. Smells of spaghetti and shampoo??? Now, he expected to smell something akin to sulfuric acid or something nauseous of the sort. But the strong smell of spaghetti sauce and admittedly nice smelling shampoo were rolling in bursts around him. That honestly threw him off more than any bad smelling smell could.

After a few minutes of sniffing and testing his mobility in this slightly suffocating pool of darkness, he hesitantly shrugged off the smell and raised the question that he, should have been the second question he asked, in his mind.

Where were all his friends at? Or better yet, where is his world at?

He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he scanned the file cabinets holding his recent memories. Putting a skeletal hand under his chin, he floated in the darkness as he tried to recollect the last thing he had done before he woke up in this pit.

A memory finally surfaced in his mind in what seemed like hours. The memory in question was quite the heartwarming one as the image formulated in his mind. Him, his brother, and Frisk were sitting comfortably on the brother's couch, being surrounded by a fortress of pillows and blankets. Empty bowls of food and fattening snacks lay around the floor and table, a mess that would have given Toriel a heart attack, no doubt. They were all watching a cheesy horror film, the plot of which slipped San's mind easily enough. Papyrus had been downright terrified, while the adolescent human and he were trying their best to hold in their laughter during the movie's failed attempts at scares. Sans had probably had fallen asleep at some point during the movie, which was no surprise, considering he was comfortable being squished by a pillow duo and some blankets for an extra topping.

And that recent memory was the halting point in his mind. He couldn't conjure up anything more recent than that little movie night. Welp, he might as well get comfy, since there seemed to be no escape in this seemingly infinite plane of existence. Well, he shouldn't draw the conclusion of no escape, after all, there could very well be an escape out from this place popping out in some ridiculously easy location he could access. Yes, all he had to do was fasten a plan together in order to escape and get back to his lazy life and friends. He just had to give his mind a jump-start and he'll be out of here in no time.

He gathered his magic in the attempt of a shortcut, his magic reaching out for any rifts in the air to grapple onto and escape, but he found himself unable to perform a shortcut. He tried again, which yielded the same, fruitless result as before. For the next few minutes, he continuously pooled a large sum of magic in his hand, and with a massive outburst, he attempted to command his magic in order to find a ripple that could bring him salvation on a much wider scale, but unsurprisingly, it failed horrendously. The white sphere of pure magic ended up being a little too much for him to handle as it flashed a brilliant white light and promptly exploded in front of him. Luckily, he was able to dodge the miniature magic-bomb but ended up having a significantly sized burn on the side of his arm.

He winced in pain, as the residue of the magic burned in deep into his bones, morphing his white colored bones into a painful-looking black and gray color. His other hand gently covered the scathed area, rubbing the small patch. Of course, not taking good care of your magic and leaving it inactive for long swatches of time was generally unhealthy, but still, he didn't expect it to just explode on him like that. It was almost as if someone had purposely popped the sphere of magic, releasing it.

He still couldn't give up though. Unlike his mundane life in the underground, he had a life and people he had to get back to on the Surface. Guillable people to prank, a brother to annoy, pun wars to be had with Toriel, and all other aspects of his new life on the Surface implanted hope into his being.

He definitely had to get out of here.

And with that thought being shouted prominently by his mind and soul, a bright flashing light encompassed his entire being and lit up the pit. Swirls of different smells wafted in the air surrounding him, spaghetti sauce, perfume, and sweat bundled with quite... lewd smells.

Before the white light captured him, however, he saw something that confused the ever living Asgore out of him. He saw _himself._ He was absolutely sure of it. In the half-second between the prominent thought and the blinding light, he saw the exact same copy of himself, just with different set clothes that he didn't bother to take note of or recognize. He couldn't exactly tell which direction the other him was facing towards, but he assumed that his doppelganger was facing him. Just with his angle, he could not decipher his expression, or really anything minor about his copycat as the time was far too short to discern anything notable.

Was it an illusion? His imagination?

He never got to dwell on the fact that his copycat was temporary with him for half a second as the startling sound of an alarm blared in his ears.

-*-

His vision was pure white, yet as the seconds ticked by, colors and outlines slowly filled his frame of vision. An unfamiliar blanket and bedding was what he felt as his vision was clearing gradually. Though, Sans was far too caught up in the fact that he was in a void-like location and witnessed a copy of himself for half a second. Everything that had just transpired, mere minutes ago, jumbled his mind like crazy and he really needed to take a breather.

Minutes passed as he blankly stared into nothing before a soft rhythm of breathing was heard next to him. He immediately whipped his skull towards the breathing, only realizing now that this room he resided in was completely unfamiliar to him. As so was his unknown bed buddy.

Not only did he was slow enough to catch on the fact that he was in unknown territory, but he just finally felt the warm touch of someone breathing into his side. His skull met the tussle of brown hair as he whipped to face the other occupant of the bed. This person's arms were wrapped around his stomach, and he watched as the back of this person's was rising and falling in sync with their breathing.

The fact that this person looked to be a human and having short, brown hair just like the teenage Frisk he knew immediately flooded questions and statements into his mind. He was completely frozen in place as his mind came to the singular conclusion that the person currently cuddling him was in fact, Frisk.

Yes, now as his vision was adjusting to the darkness of the room, he could clearly make out the features of his cuddle buddy. The same hair color and length, very similar facial structure, small nose, and most groundbreaking of all is that Sans could hear the same sounds being produced from this person's soul, which correlates exactly with Frisk. Yes, this person is no doubt, Frisk. Or maybe Frisk's long lost identical twin? No, that can't be right. Not even twins produced the same sounds from their souls.

His body tensed as 'Frisk' adjusted herself onto him in an attempt to get more comfortable and started lightly snoring. He let out a breath he was holding in, he thought 'Frisk' would have woken up from the slight rattling of his bones.

He studied 'Frisk's' sleeping face, more and more unanswerable questions surfacing in his mind. But the question that appeared most was the fact that this Frisk laying in bed with him was much older than the Frisk he knew. How and why is this Frisk older than the one he knew? And why was he in bed with her? And why was he in that abyss in the first place? Did he really see his copyca-

He forced his thoughts to come to a screeching halt. He regulated his ever so increasing breathing in fear of waking this Frisk.

He had to somehow get away and find a place that he could sort his mindset in. But escaping would be easier said than done. This Frisk's arms were currently linked with his waist, effectively pinning him into the same spot until she readjusts her position. He really didn't feel comfortable about his friend using him as a body pillow. Not to mention the fact that he was never a touchy sort of person at all.

He carefully summoned a tiny portion of his magic into his palm, and slowly pushed Frisk away from him. Which was easier said than done, this Frisk's body was nearly twice as large as his own. While the Frisk he knew and loved was only towering him by a few inches, this Frisk was like a giant.

After a few minutes, he managed to untangle himself from the human and stepped out of the bed. He stood on the warm, wooled floor as he observed the room he somehow ended up in. He still had to figure out how, why, and where he was, here. He quietly searched the room for anything that might possibly assist him in figuring out his dilemma. After searching nothing, he quietly trod the distance to the door and opened it with extreme caution, treating this as if it was a stealth mission. After one curious look behind his shoulder, he stepped into the dark hallway and shut the door quietly behind him. 

Dim lights in the hallway met him, creating shadows that licked at the walls. Picture frames adorned the walls, a large potted plant standing still at the end of the hallway, sheltering a large, buttercup. The sight of this flower briefly flashed an image of Flowey in his mind, but he quickly dismissed the thought. No need to focus on that flower for right now. 

He took his eye sockets off the unusally large plant, and instead raised his eyes towards the pictures. Perhaps they could enlighten him in some way. He walked towards the picture frames, scanning the image lying beneath the glassed frame.

He saw portraits of some of his friends, including himself. Pictures that he had no clue of existing or being taken. They all seemed happy, including himself. Not only that, but there are two children in most of the pictures that have no air of familiarity to him. Just who were they?

An unfamiliar voice chuckled in his direction, which had a soft quality to it.

Sans whipped around, magic automatically rising due to the unexpected surprise, but found no one at all. Could he of imagined it? He scanned the entire hallway, eyes eyeing up everything there was to see. The shadows caused by the night lights in the hallway created a sense of unease in him. A creepy vibe set in the atmosphere.

So many questions flooded his mind suddenly, reminding him how much little he knew, almost taunting him of his lack of knowledge of this... place.  

After a few seconds passing around him, he continued his quest, being as silent as possible, and continued his journey through the unknown, yet for some odd reason, familiar.

 

 


	2. Questions

The creaking of the groaning wooden floor boards under his swift-moving feet did not soothe his nerves at all. Shadows that seemed like chasing him along the walls out of the corner of his eyes as he rapidly traversed through the unknown hallway, nerves lighting up like firecrackers. He silently speed-walked through the hallway, not bothering to take note of any details anymore. He was way too jumpy after getting his soul ripped out of him in fright after hearing that laugh. And he knows that he shouldn't be this distressed from a _chuckle_ out of all things, but something felt wrong about that laugh. 

It was too out of place, and unexpecting. The quality and the tone was off. 

But in all cases, that laugh could have been simply a product of his imagination, simply the work of his overactive mind. Yes, that had to be it. His exhausted mind was simply being overwhelmed. It is ridiculous that he hadn't even freaked out in that void he woke up in, yet overreacted by a possibly imagined chuckle. 

Despite himself constantly telling himself this, his soul still felt like it was ramming itself repeatedly into the walls of his being. Bones still slightly shaking. 

He couldn't shake off the feeling of being followed. 

He could see a staircase now, wooden rails meeting his eyes as he came to it, eager to just get out of that hallway. This time, as he walked down the stairs, he took his time observing the significant quantity of the pictures hung up on the wall. As he imagined, more fun memories, from the looks of it, trapped in a still frame picture met his gaze, and the two unfamiliar children being joined in those pictures. 

He couldn't exactly make out the pictures crystal clear, but it was definitely an improvement for his sight than in the hallway. Instead of the shadows creeping across the pictures caused by the night lights, a faint, natural light, coming from the windows alongside the front door, helped brighten the picture up, which made inspecting the features of the people's faces more easier. 

He was still slightly jumpy, but he managed to focus thoroughly on the pictures, hoping to the stars that this could somehow assist him back home. In particular, he studied the children's faces, and with surprise, noticed some considerably odd features of the young faces.

On the bottom step of the stairs, he concentrated on the picture on the left. The picture presented a golden beach, it seemed, with two joyous looking children building a crude sandcastle. Children that strangely resembled very similarly to Frisk.  

Short, brown hair. Similiar facial structure. And one of them even had the same expression of childish excitement that the Frisk, he knew, wore even when she is already a teenager. 

The other one's expression reminded him of his own. Calm, yet he could tell, even in the dimmed light, the happiness in their eyes. 

Both looked to be the ages of 12 to 14 years of age. 

Were these Frisk's twin siblings? It has to be, or else there would be no other explanations to pick out from otherwise. Yet, his soul was acting strangely towards the both of them. A tingle of warmth towards them, for some unexplainable reason. Towards a couple of children that, for the existence of his soul, could not pin point in his memories. Frisk has never mentioned about her family before, and even when offered the chance to search for any remaining family, Frisk vehemently denied the offer. Sans always assumed that Frisk was an orphan, or was the bearer of abuse from some freak shows of parents. 

So, it could be possible that these children were her family, but it didn't quite add up. Something wasn't right. 

Heh, nothing about any of this was adding up at all. And Sans was getting damn sick and tired of this long-running joke. Frustration was picking at his head at the missing gaps of knowledge of this strange place.

Where in the hell was he? Why are there pictures that he had no recollection of taking at all? Who were those children? And since when did 'Frisk' become an adult?

He scratched at the wall in frustration, the scratches leaving the wall burnt with marks of magic. He stepped into the living room, almost forgetting to keep down the noise level out of pure frustration. He managed to stay composed enough to observe the new land. 

To his right, he saw a large flat-screened T.V, a large, wooly carpet on the floor, and a huge sofa to the left. He stepped fully into the large living room, before exiting it after finding nothing that seemed of interest or use. It seemed to be have cleaned completely recently. 

He walked over to the window, it's now growing natural light luring his curiosity in. He peered out of the window, noticing the sky's painted orange color splashed across its canvas. A large oak tree stood proud and mighty in the front yard, with a swing set attached to one of its more larger branches. He wondered shortly if the swing set was meant for children, and he decided that it probably was. Probably for those two strange children that were trapped in those photos, if they were living here, that is.

Out of nowhere, he felt a small twinge of a feeling that could be only described as the happiness of returning home. He stood for a moment, wondering why in the stars' name he just felt that. But as soon as it wafted through him, it went up in the air, leaving him puzzled and a little weirded out. 

This wasn't his home, no mistake about that. He has _his world_ to get back to. And his mind already drifted to the thought of his brother, his enthusiastic baby brother. Yep, he definitely had someone to get back to, and he would be damned if he didn't at least try to return to all of them. Images of Papyrus, Frisk, Toriel, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore, and other familiar faces brushed across his mind, implanting a seed of determination. And that was surprising to him, as determination was something he thought he could never of have felt, but there it was, strengthing his resolve to get back home.

He freed himself from the window, turning to his left to explore more rooms until the sound of a door creaking interrupted his scavenging. 

He felt himself become paralyzed like a statue at the faint, yet unmistakable sound of a squeaky, wooden door. His soul beat furiously, sweat starting to glisten, just wondering if it was just another product of his mind. The spell of paralysis had been broken as he heard tiny footsteps upstairs. And with that spell broken, he moved his own feet in order to compete with his little competitor. He amassed a significant portion of his magic and commanded it to seek out any ripples for a short cut. And this time, it went as planned as he rushed through the doorway into the living room, his surroundings immediately melted into an unfamiliar one, definitely not the living room. 

He didn't understand why he didn't just confront whoever it was, but his instincts were telling him to run. 

As he ran in, he bumped into a table and landed on the tiled floor. His head was ringing as he used one hand placed on the floor to steady himself, and used the other hand to rub the area on his spine that connected with the table. Slightly rattled, he took a few seconds on the floor, noting the fridge in the corner of the room. This was, no doubt, a kitchen. 

Out of all the places, he landed in the kitchen. 

He stood up slowly, body still aching from the hard blow dealt to his weak body. With one hand gripping the sore area, he took slow steps around the kitchen, looking for a place to be concealed. Using a short cut to a new location would be risky with this level of pain in the background. It took complete focus in order to perform a short cut, and with that in mind, he had no choice but to search a hiding place. Not with the fuzzy static of pain in the background of his mind.

"Dad?" 

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand gripping his area of soreness painfully tight in response to the young voice that reached out to him. Surprise and the scare produced from the surprise wrapped around him.  After a few seconds of silence, with no response from him.

"Dad, are you okay?" Concern gripped itself around the voice's words. Genuine concern. 

He absentmindedly noted that it was a young girl's voice. 

But he still didn't turn around or respond. The word 'dad' panging around the walls of his mind. He was honestly too scared to confirm his suspicion to who called him 'dad'. And he had a sneaking suspicion to who it was. No proof, but his soul was producing images of who he thought it was. No, who it actually was. 

He turned slowly around, confirming his suspicions. 

A young girl encompassed his view. A young teenager it seemed, who looked very similar to Frisk. One of the kids, he recognized, from the pictures. She had a tired, yet concerned expression listed across her face. Her hand leaning on the doorway, looking at him with the same brown eyes as Frisk has. His soul responded with warm tingles, for no apparent reason. 

The whole world stopped. 

 

 

 


	3. A Piece to a Puzzle

His mind could not function properly as the first words he heard the girl, standing in the doorway, spilled that first word out of her mouth.

Dad.

That one word was currently being tossed around in his conscious, being tossed like a rag-doll. He barely noticed the girl open her mouth and reach out to him with concerned words that could not reach him as he was lost in the vastness of nothingness. His vision and hearing went suddenly fuzzy. 

He barely registered his 'daughter' skirt towards him, with slow and cautious steps, hands reaching out to him. Emotions were waging war in his soul, ripping each other to tiny pieces as his mind just finally basked in the meaning of that word tossed towards him so casually.

He was a father.

No! That couldn't be! This all had to be some sort of mistake! He couldn't be a father, and certainly not a father to a child who uncannily looked similar to Frisk. This was all wrong. He never held any romantic interest, much less interested in starting a little family of his own. He never wanted this. This couldn't be his child.

And Frisk couldn't be his wife!

...

Where did that thought come from?

Arms enveloped his middle as he felt the vibrations of a shaking person attack him. He felt the girl hug him tightly as whispers gripped around his skull, bringing him an odd sense of comfort. It didn't make sense in the tiniest way, but this was his daughter. His soul was hammering that confirmation into his mind, warmth from his soul that temporarily washed away the emotions that came along with that dreaded word. At the same time, however, he felt a strong sense of homesick clawing at him, sparking feelings of longing to his friends and family back home somewhere.

A slew of panicked words was being thrown at him as the arms that hugged him close slipped off of him. Yet those words might as well been dead silence as his mind was at a completely different place. Without the support of his 'daughter' holding his weak frame up, gravity tugged his body to meet the floor. His arms barely shielded his skull from having a web of cracks decorating it as he landed. His mind was slowly pulling itself out of whatever kind of shock it had been zapped with. His vision and hearing were blurry, but it was slowly cleaning itself with focus. 

He noticed his 'daughter' wasn't joining him in the kitchen anymore, which brought a mixture of great relief and sadness all at the same time. He couldn't even begin to question his soul right now. But everything will be explained. He will search the answer and cure for his soul's extremely strange behavior and find a way back to his friends and family. 

He tried to lift himself off of the ground, but sudden fatigue anchored his body back down to the floor again. He heard multiple pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. He started panicking, yet too exhausted to truly take any real action. One of them was unmistakenly his daughter, but there had to be at least two more pairs hurriedly coming towards him. 

He stopped trying to stand, just simply accepting his fate. Honestly, he doesn't know why he is still afraid. Maybe it was the nakedness he was feeling when he is in this place? Or perhaps it is the wrongness of being caught in a place like this? A place that he doesn't belong to, while his soul tells him otherwise? But there was also the case with his soul, the confusing signals his soul would flare out occasionally in this place. Never before had his soul acted in this fashion, giving off warmth and longing for this place. 

He needed answers. So many answers in order to subdue the swirling clouds of frustration and confusion surrounding his mind.

His eye sockets started closing, being pulled down by the weight of his exhaustion. He could hear the loud gasps and footsteps racing towards him before he was enveloped by tiredness. 

-*-

Yellow sunlight instantly made itself known by shoving itself in his eye sockets. His surroundings were all around him, sparking confusion. Before him, he saw a girl in a white wedding dress standing before him, and she was holding a bouquet of buttercups. He heard the sounds of collective, excited voices in the background. He wanted to call out to the girl in order to ask where he was but found himself unable to. In fact, it seemed that he couldn't even move the slightest bit. He was stuck staring at the girl, now recognizing the person with horror.

It was Frisk. 

Instantly, everything clicked. He wanted to cry out, scream to the audience that this is all a mistake, but he couldn't. In admist of his pure panic, he felt his traitorous soul explode with love and affection towards the extremely happy looking Frisk. All these confusing emotions made him nauseous and delirious, but he couldn't collapse or anything. It was like he was stuck inside another person's body, not even being able to control one of the strings for the puppet. And judging by Frisk's face, it seemed his panic had no affect on his outward appearence as she still looked like she was living her dream. 

"I do."

His voice came out of his mouth unwillingly. And with that, all the voices in the background started to cheer as Frisk, teary-eyed, made her way towards him and his body moving towards her to meet her halfway for a kiss. 

Sans wanted to scream as Frisk plunged her lips into his teeth, his own body eagerly giving her the same ethusiatic kiss. His arms wrapped around Frisk's middle as hers dropped the bundle of flowers and wrapped her arms around his neck in a needy fashion. 

This was all wrong. Yet his soul was acting as if this was all right. 

He had no control over his body as his magic started to position Frisk into his arms in a bridal fashion, using his magic to make up for his lack of strength to hold her up. He heard the ear-ringing loud cheers of voices of friends he recognized, and others who he did not. He couldn't see his friends at all, as his eye sockets seemed to be focusing on Frisk only as they continued to kiss lovingly, his soul giving off the same love as Frisk seemed to give to him.

He tried to struggle free from his state of being a mere spectator, but found himself unable to. 

He could only look on helplessly as everything blurred. Excited and loving voices coiling around him as the scene faded to black. 

And he found himself in an ocean of black, floating in nothingness. His first thought was that he was back in the void-like place before he ended up in that strange world, but this area felt completely different from that. This wasn't like the fluidly darkness that he knew of. It was just like any normal darkness that you would find yourself in by removing the light from a room with no windows. 

A chuckle. 

He couldn't move or much less make a distressed noise as the chuckle raced towards his head. 

And it was the same chuckle that freaked him out so badly in the house. 

Then more chuckles invaded the darkness, varying from loud to quiet. Yet all the same voice. He was sure of it. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, a flash of white emerged. 

-*-

Whizzing sounds of machinery buzzed around him, causing him to open his eye sockets. When he opened his eyes, he heard a collective group of gasps and cheers. He tried to sit up, but found himself feeling too weak in order to do so. Which angered him as the last thing he needed was his lack of mobility. He wanted proof that he could fully control his own body after experiencing the lovely experience of not being able too. 

"S-Sans, you shouldn't r-really try to sit up. You just need some r-rest, especially in your condition." Came out a nervous voice. A voice he immediately, and happily recognized to be his old friend Alphys. 

Could he be back to his world?!

He wanted to reply, but before he was able to get the words out of his mouth, two pair of arms wrapped around his neck. He heard Alphys panickily warn them to be careful, but it seemed the owners of the small pairs of arms paid no heed as they wrung tightly around him. He felt a moderate pain around his collarbone as the two small pairs of arms coiled around him.

His mind went numb as he heard the words, "DAD!" being screamed into his ribcage. He felt them rubbing their faces against his ribcage as he went blank. But his soul seemed to try to reach out towards them, however.

As his vision adjusted, he could see at the bottom of his vison, pairs of brown hairs tickling his mouth.

Eventually, he felt them releasing his body from captivity as he saw Frisk gently, but with power, hug him. Her arms easily able to cover him, with him being the child-sized skeleton that he was. His soul reached out happily, again. He never wanted to shush his own soul before, but he certainly did now. 

"Oh Sans! You had us all worried sick!" Frisk's voice sounded greatly relieved, yet still carried a worried tone as she continued nuzzling into him. He could only become limp in her hold.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Alphys blushing in the corner, her claws covering her mouth as she gazed towards the little scene. A little heat rose in him as he now just wanted to push this Frisk off. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to wrap his little arms around her as well in order to comfort her. 

After a few seconds of silence, Alphys piped up with, "Everyone else is coming as fast as they are able too, and knowing Papyrus and Undyne, your guy's doors might need a replacement." 

Frisk lifted her head from him, looking towards Alphys as she said, "Yeah, but Papyrus would probably be eager to fix the door up to his own style, anyways." She was still holding him tightly. Uncomfortably so. She had a thoughtful expression across her face as she said, "Gaster, knowng him, would probably want to install his little defense mechanisms on our front lawn and door, just because he has the exuse to do so. Even though this is the safest neighborhood around." Frisk looked down at him, her eyes looking still holding a hint of concern, but filled to the brim with love. The two children that had presumably hugged him, was now holding his hands tightly, excitement being shown on their faces at the mention of everyone coming. 

But Sans couldn't even focus at anything whe she said the word Gaster.

Gaster. 

His father that has been dead for years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. False Reunion

Thin beams of color and light penetrated his black vision slowly but increasing in number. After a few seconds, he started to open his eye sockets slowly, adjusting himself to the brightness as he started to grow conscious. He started to feel the soft fabric of a blanket under his stiff hands as he managed to overcome the arduous task of fully opening his eye sockets. It was just then that he truly started to suffer under the weight of his strengthening exhaustion and a faint ringing of a headache at the back of his mind.

He didn't focus on anything just yet, with the light blue paint coating the ceiling accompanying his vision. It wasn't until he heard the distinct collective group of voices being just barely audible in the background, that he finally tore his blank stare up at the lonely ceiling. He focused on the ocean of voices that seemed to reside downwards. He narrowed his eyes a fraction and concentrated on the slew of voices. But he couldn't discern anything at all; the voices itself being a garbled mess of noise. He started to flex his fingers, and then, using his elbows, started to slowly sit up. He was hoping that by sitting up, he could somehow be able to pick out the voices from the tangle that it was, but alas, he was, of course, unable to.

Then the smell was picked up. The smell of sweets, particularly. He turned his head to the left and was greeted with a large plate of an assortment of monster food. A few cinnamon bunnies there, a decent sized Mettaton-themed steak in the middle, and a large, lumpy slice of pie that seemed to be the size of his skull. He gazed at the assortment of magical food for a few short seconds, but then felt a sudden wave of a nauseous splash against him. He tore his gaze from the food, which seemed to only serve to strengthen it, and gripped the lower part of his ribcage.

He closed his eyes for a short while, hoping that the pain would simply go away. The pain wasn't something he particularly felt like dealing with right now. Which reminded him... where and why was he here?

And then everything hit him.

All the events, the revelations, the strange visions, and the emotions that his soul harbored. He started to remember the latest part before he seemingly passed out.

_Gaster._

Was his father truly alive? Could he actually will himself to believe that he was actually walking on the living world?

A long-buried pain started to bubble through the surface. His eye sockets seemed to be glued shut, now. His hands gripped the fluffiness of the blanket tightly with a sudden wave of strength.

It had to be some sort of trick... right? Yes, it had to be. There was no way in hell. But this place isn't really his world, now was it?

A memory had suddenly appeared in his mind. A buried and an unwanted one that should have stayed buried, yet chose to appear like a haunting apparition. It was the memory of the accident at the lab. The day that brought down the destruction of a piece of his world. The day that struck his childhood innocence down and brought a new era of hardship, fake masks, hurt, and eventually moving on in life. 

He lifted his hands to the sides of his skull, his thumb applying a small amount of pressure, which brought him a little comfort, yet could not relieve the soul-constricting pain that nearly splintered his soul in half.

No, no this had to be some sort of cruel trick played by the universe against him. He couldn't face his father after all these years. Not after his failures. Failures that he could not overcome, even today.

He brought his hands down again, instead opting to wrap them around the knees that were now up to his ribcage. He buried his head in between his knees, trying to bare the weight of the pain brought by the avalanche of memories that he so carefully buried for the sake of moving on. He took in a deep breath and released it. He finally managed to open his eyes to reality after a few pain-filled moments. His headache had grown noticeably worse, which did not blend well with the exhaustion that he held.

He slowly dragged himself out of the bed and took an embarrassingly long amount of time to balance himself without any support. He started to observe the room, hoping to find anything that would distract him from all these memories...

His eye sockets found something at the end of his bed. He slowly walked towards it, each step causing a slight bit of blurriness yet receding back to normality soon after. It was revealed to be a card. A get-well card. With a red racing car decorating the front? He picked it up and examined the crude drawing of the red racing car that had the level a child could achieve. Then it hit him. Could this be from Papyrus? He quickly opened up the card and it revealed more simple, yet loving drawings of skeletons and yet more racing cars. Very large and loud letters giving out encouragement was placed in the middle of all these drawings. The large signature at the bottom of the card confirmed his suspicion that this was indeed from his brother. He felt himself genuinely smile, but stopped.

He suddenly was struck with the urge to just find Papyrus and hang out with him. He was suddenly reminded of how much he missed his friends and brother.

He closed the card and gently laid it down on the spot that he previously found it on. He then placed his weight on his hands that were placed on the bed. He was overcome with an intense homesickness, yet strangely, his soul was giving off the same feeling that he felt when he looked at the house's window. A feeling of one returning to their home after a long time away from it. Yet, that made absolutely no sense. 

What was wrong with his soul?

The faint voices that were picked up from his hearing suddenly jolted him. He looked towards the door that stood guarding him against the outside of his room. He silently debated whether or not that he should stay in this room or confront the outside world head-on. He knew that staying in this room would accomplish nothing, no matter how tired or pained he was. With an unsteady confidence and no solid course of action in mind, he trudged his way towards the door, and placed his skull on it, hoping to discern any of the voices. The voices had mostly quieted down in intensity, but was still there and still garbled.

He gripped the door's handle and slowly opened the door. He poked his head outside of the door, and the voices had more clarity to them, now. Familiarity struck him as he observed the hallway that he was just in, running about. From that voice.

A sudden unease grew into him, but he quelched it.

He stepped into the hallway and silently made his way towards the noise. He now realized that some kind of T.V show was going on. As he made his way down the railing on the top of the stairs, he could now clearly hear laughter and such happening about. He ignored the sudden fear that spiked through him and cautiously made his way downstairs, a goal still nowhere clear in his mind. Only just the feeling of being tired of everything lingering in him. It ate through him.

The voices were now clear now as he stood in the doorway to the living room, where presumably where the voices were. But all on his mind was just on his father. He placed his hands deep into his pocket as he lingered unknowingly in the doorway. He watched with a blank mind as he found not only his father but...

He couldn't even believe his eyes.

There, sitting on the couch were the royal children...

Asriel and Chara. The fallen children that were supposed to be dead. Just like his father. Yet now they are alive. Sitting with his friends and his supposed children watching some T.V show with pleased and happy faces. 

How?

And if his mind couldn't have gotten more distorted, it had breached the impossible line as he spotted his father chatting with Alphys quietly about something. Clearly, a conversation that was enjoyable as both of them wore amused expressions. But Sans couldn't focus on that. Only on his father.

Time was freezing and locking into place as the emotions were just barely hanging by the thread.

His father's features were slowly being processed. He looked disturbingly similar to how he looked on the day of the accident. His mind couldn't help but draw lines of familiarity. He wore the same joyous expression that his dad would wear whenever he told him or his brother a really funny story or an accomplishment.

Then one of the kids playing on the carpet spotted him. It was the girl, he believed. Worldlessly, he saw her jump up with excitement from her spot on the carpet, which prompted her confused sibling to look up and run to him as well. He finally tore his gaze from his father and looked blankly towards the very happy children that were careening towards him. Not a second had passed before both of their combined strength tackled him towards the ground, and he could hear the giggling forms that were on top of him. 

But the sounds were distant, so far away.

He found himself automatically wrapping his arms around them, for whatever reason, and pulling them close. He could hear them squeak in delight as he gripped them tightly. His soul was doing happy flips in his ribcage. He wasn't even going to question it.

There was a ringing bouncing in his head, now. The kids eventually released their tight hold on him and gave him room to get up. He barely noticed all of the occupants of the couch now getting up and moving towards them.

Everything was just so far away...

Why was everything seem so distant and confusing?

"Sans, sweetie! Are you okay?!"

He heard the worried voice of Frisk call out towards him as she gripped his shoulders softly, scanning over him for injuries, worriedly. He heard the distinct laughter of Undyne and Chara in the background as Frisk fussed over him.

He hasn't heard Chara's voice in so long...

He felt his cheeks heat very slightly as Frisk's touches grazed over him. He wasn't used to the touching, at all. Somehow, he managed to form out a response.

'y-yeah, it's all good."

He didn't like how his voice shook, but at least he had gotten out a response. A surprise indeed.

It seemed as though that his response had not soothed her as she placed her hand under him and lifted him up. She used her arm to steady him as he balanced himself. He willed himself not to look at his father's face as he stared into Frisk's warm brown eyes.

"BROTHER!"

His brother suddenly came into view as he bounded towards him.

"DID YOU CONQUER YOUR ILLUSTRIOUS BATTLE WITH THE SICKNESS LIKE I TOLD YOU IN THE FABULOUS CARD I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAD WRITTEN FOR YOU?"

A soft smile formed as he looked towards his brother. But he found himself taken aback when he noticed Papyrus's attire. He wasn't wearing his battle armor and his red scarf. He was wearing a red sweater with illustrations of Christmas trees and reindeer covering it. Along with the sweater was white shorts with another Christmas design imprinted on the material. But he had no signature scarf on. The scarf was Papyrus's most prized possession...

Sans couldn't even believe his eyes as he continued staring at his brother.

Papyrus wouldn't take off his battle armor or scarf for anything... What in stars' name?

A red glove suddenly engulfed his view as it waved up and down at great speeds in front of his face. 

"BROTHER, IT HAS APPEARED THAT YOU HAVE STOPPED WORKING!"

"Sweetheart... What's wrong?"

He quickly snapped out of it, though the weirdness of seeing his brother without his red scarf, at least, still lingered on.

"it's nothin, just a little tired is all, heh heh."

He lifted scratched the back of his skull, trying to ignore the worried stares from all of them. He hated being fussed over. 

Frisk came into view again.

"Alphys did say that you contracted a minor sickness that affects only the soul, but she did say that you should get over it after a day or two..."

He noted that Alphys looked nervous after Frisk had said this.

Then a voice interrupted. A voice that he hoped that he wouldn't have to hear ever since he woke up again in that room.

**"Perhaps you should get some rest, son. The sickness is indeed something that is minor, but, no offense, you seem to need some rest, given that you look like you could collapse any second."**

Everything froze as he heard that voice... A few drops of sweat was accumulating. He didn't want to hear that voice again...

"Wait, is daddy going to get hurt if he doesn't sleep?!"

Sans looked towards the owner of the voice, more than happy to get away from that voice. He realized that it was one of the children. It was a young boy's voice. Sans took one good look at the panicked boy and knew that the boy was from the photo. He seemed to be younger than his sibling. He also noticed that his daught- the girl looked very panicked and concerned along with her brother.

Frisk placed both hands on the children in a soothing manner.

"No, sweeties. Your dad is just a little sick, is all. He'll be fine in no time."

She smiled at the both of them, but he noticed that Frisk didn't seem to fully believe in that statement. The boy seemed appeased, but his older sibling didn't seem convinced at all and continued to give him a face full of concern. 

Then the prince stepped towards him, looking slightly nervous. Sans could only stare. 

"Hey, uh... The pie slice that I made for you didn't make your condition worse, did it? I mean, I swear I tried my absolute best..."

The prince fidgeted and blushed a little as Chara snorted in the background. 

"It's alright, Azzy. At least you didn't manage to make him barf like last time you gave your pie to someone. Remember poor Mom and Dad's faces when yo-"

"Be quiet, Chara!!!"

Asriel frantically placed a paw over her mouth in an effort to silence her. Chara was giggling while Asriel was crimson. 

The children started giggling along with Chara, which made everyone laugh as well. Sans would have probably laughed along with them, but how could he?

He started to feel dizzy as everything was simply proving to be too much. 

He had to go outside and away from everything for a while. It was just all too much. 

"h-hey guys, just need to take a breather outside for a bit..."

He went through the doorway and took a shortcut outside. He ignored the looks of concern as he landed outside onto the front yard of the house. He gripped the grass tightly, threatening to rip it out as he sunk his knees into the soft grass. He slowly stood up and briskly walked into a random direction, not caring where he was going. 

Before he even made it out of the front yard and onto the sidewalk, however, he felt harsh breathing at the back of his neck...

Bones formed in the air behind him as he quickly turned around, eye sockets opening like circles. 

Nothing. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Break

Sans violently turned around behind him, his magic bursting at the seams to be released from his soul. Bones formed mid-air around him, forming a haphazardly-made barrier of bones, as he clenched his fists in the deep shroud of his side pockets. His eye sockets were vicious and trained as he scanned the exact position of the air where the source breathed its harsh, chilling air right down his collarbone. He scanned for anything amiss. Anything that could expose the perpetrator.

Yet the sight of the front of the house only served to torment him even further than before. No misplaced object or any hint of signs that the harsh breathing even took place.

A harsh breath of his own escaped his mouth as his very being shook with frustration and fear. His unfortunate fists felt and endured the emotional baggage produced from his soul as more rapid breathing liberated itself from his quivering mouth. His barrier dissipated.

He couldn't take this anymore. Why couldn't he just be left alone for just a few minutes? Is it really too much to ask for a short break?!

His hands found their way out of his pockets and onto his knees as he bent over the grass. He could feel nausea start to penetrate his defenses, again. Only this time, it was coming back with a fierce vengeance as he could feel the sweat starting to form in ugly, large droplets on his skull. He bent even more still as a skull-tearing headache started to uncover itself inside his head. The deadly combo waging war on his body almost brought him down to the grass. Had he been human, vomit would have been the lovely coating over the grass, right now.

He has to get away... But then, something made itself known.

A shadow-like figure exposed itself on the edge of his vision. And he didn't need to look at the figure fully as his mind felt like splitting. For the first time, from what Sans could remember, he tore loose a scream. A hideous scream created out of the raging storm of emotions that exploded out of him. He ripped out his right arm out in front of him and aimed it towards the defiled spot where the damn thing once stood. Yet, he turned too quickly. He tripped over himself as the dizziness from the quick motion took ahold of him and collided his jaw to the grass.

All that Sans could feel was shame and rage as he tried to stand, to no avail.

The disastrous duo of nausea and the headache was at its peak. His vision started to fade and degrade. The same old and tiring darkness, once again, bled into his vision.

No. _No._

He is sick and tired of all of this. This entire place, it's fake surroundings, his fake friends, his fake family, and especially that damned laugh can all go straight to **hell**.

He forced his heavy-lidded eye sockets and mustered up the force to slam his palm against the ground. He slid a knee under him and the other one as he placed both hands in front of him. Heavyweights and intense dizziness seemed to chain him down, but he powered through the perils. He shakily stood and faced the direction where he saw that figure.

Nothingness wasn't the answer to his eyes. No, there was something standing before him.

Something.

He couldn't make out the pitch black figure. Gone was the house and the surrounding environment. The infinite grayish void was the successor. It spread through all conceivable directions and made him feel so, so tiny. But he was most certainly not alone.

No, there was an even darker figure that stood only a mere few feet away from him.

There it stood, what appeared to be its limbs dangling down its sides. It was small, even smaller than him. It gave the impression and the looks of a meek and frail, humanoid child. Yet it gave off a frightening vibe that seemed to radiate from it, oozingly. This figure seemed like it was the center of everything.

How could something appear so weak yet appear so almighty at the same time? It made Sans want to cower, yet he stood his ground. But even he couldn't help but the shiver that crawled up his spine as more and more of that atrocious aura it seemed to produce is realized.

And was it just his fractured mind or was the stationary figure slowly receding into the grayish background of torment?

He felt his instincts go off the charts, right then and there. If there wasn't a sense of pure wrongness and an out-of-place feeling before, it was certainly embedded into his mind now. 

Then a voice seemed to surround the entire void space.

_"Come right down! No need to fear! It's only a small fall down! It'll be over before you know it!"_

Sans tumbled back a few steps.

It was the owner of the laughter. He was damn sure of it. It held the same soft quality to it, yet the owner of the voice now sounded like it was having a merry old time. Sans looked towards the figure, trying to find any sort of hint that the voice came from it. Anything. Yet, the voice seemed to be engulfing everything. It felt so wrong.

And what did the voice even mean?

 _"No need for shyness now. I'm only trying to help out, you know?"_ The voice dropped an octave lower, no previous merriment contained within the voice. Sans instinctively rose his magic as he stood with baited breath, not willing to respond.

 _"Like I said, you have nothing to fear! Just jump right in!"_ Not even one second had passed before the voice immediately before it picked up a sing-along sort of shift. Sans kept his eye sockets trained on the gradually retreating figure, still not willing to respond.

But he couldn't help but wonder what the voice even means. Jump into what, exactly? The same unease that he felt when he first heard that chuckle had multiplied and grown inside him. 

 _"You have nothing to fear! Nothing to fear! Nothing to fear!"_ The high-strung voice started to sing fully. For some reason, the singing tune of the wronged voice is more unsettling than some of Flowey's masks that the flower would wear to solely frighten someone.

He finally had enough. 

"who are you!? what are you even talking about?!" It had been quite ways long ago that Sans had ever yelled, but this wasn't exactly a normal circumstance. Yet the voice seemed to not even be fazed by his booming voice as it continued singing. 

The singing grew into an unbearable cacophony. The vibrations of the voice alone caused his ribcage to rattle out of his utter control. Sans screamed for the second mark that day as the singing, at this point screeching, was stabbing the insides of his heads with fever passion. He gripped his skull with a tight grip as he continued to scream in agony as the grating chanting hammered down onto him.

 **"S t o p  i t!"** Yet the singing continued to strengthen, completely ignoring his own pain-filled sounds of agony. And to Sans's horror, his HP had started to slowly make its way down to zero.

 

HP     1

HP     0.75

HP     0.5

HP     0.25

 

Sans crumpled to the floor, falling prey and giving into the now-screaming. But then it stopped. Dead quiet hushed out the horrific screaming as Sans could hear nothing but constant ringing.

He could not move as he hasn't even noticed the splitting noise had stopped. It wasn't until a long time before he even dares lift open an eye socket. He could still feel the intense vibrations his own body was making as he looked around with a hesitant eye socket. Still shaking like a leaf, he very cautiously rose, his hands still gripping his skull instinctively. 

A few more tense moments was accompanied by the dead silence as Sans shakily looked around the gray waves of the void. Then a few tears started to trickle down his face. Then a few more. And more. Until eventually, it evolved to a sob. 

Sans has never cried in his entire life, even when the lab accident took place. Yet now, a single day has managed to bring him to this point. He removed his hands from the sides of his skull and to attempt to conceal his eye sockets. More soul-wrenching sobs tore free and continued to do so for a time that he couldn't care to measure. All he knew is that he needed this. 

He wanted his wife and children back. He wanted his brother. He wanted Dad. 

 _"Aren't you a judge?"_ A high-pitched voice came to his right and with the voice, stopped the ringing. But Sans would not dare face the owner. At the very least, he stopped sobbing as soon as the voice made itself known.

A biting cold met his right cheekbone as it seemingly froze his leftover tears. 

 _"Quite the sight to see the judge cowering and running around like a dog with its tail behind its legs."_ The voice held the same old merry tune to it. 

It wasn't a conscious decision, but he found himself launching a bone towards his right. The bone struck nothing, but the cold presence left. But the coldness washed anew on his left, this time. 

 _"You are tampering with things that you do not understand."_ An incredibly low octave matched the voice. 

Sans summoned his blasters and bones in a circular fashion around him. With a telepathic command, he blasted it all in every direction.

He had enough.

Roars of the blasters and the whizzing of the trailing bones filled the void as he continuously poured more magic outwards. Sans poured out all the magic he could assemble, all the attacks he could muster, and all the screams he could offer until he transformed into a breathless, sweaty skeleton heap on his knees. 

Then he felt himself being pushed to the ground by a small hand on his neck. It was freezing. He tried to grasp at the invading hand, but he could not even muster the energy to do so. He had wasted it. So he watched helplessly as the same figure that stood a few feet away now was inches apart. Only its pitch-black, smooth face engulfed his vision. Sans thought he could even see its eyes. He felt his damaged HP lowering even further... 

It only uttered two words before he immediately felt a familiar bed from under him. 

_"Wasted potential."_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Enough

The blankets of the guest room faced a merciless tumble to the floor as Sans zoomed upright on the bed. He snapped his head towards all directions around the over-decorated room, trying to find any residue of the dull purgatory that he was confined to. But more important, finding anything of the _figure_.

The figure's blank, warped body invaded his thoughts. And the entire combination of the haunting images and its screaming that sent him to near death fueled, even more, panic into him. Even when there was no hint of a featureless face or a morbid reality, he still felt tingles of dread.

Sans sat there on the barren bed, as his mind had settled down after absorbing the safety and tranquility of the room, for some time. After a few minutes of bashing the door leading outside of his safe zone with an empty stare, he turned his head towards the window that allowed the light of the stars and moon to flutter through. It was there that he realized that he had been knocked out for the entire day, imprisoned in a void of torment with that thing.

Any sprinkle of happiness and relief he would have felt after realizing he had somehow escaped from that void was crushed. While he had managed to escape that nightmare, he had awoken into another one.

He was still in a different world, populated by friends and people that are unrecognizable to him. Populated with people that should have stayed dead and placed at the back of everyone's minds.

A puff of air hissed through his mouth as frustration started to boil beneath his permanently laid-back face.

Sans has repeated this countless of times during his stay in this fake world, but he will keep saying it: He was tired of this place and everything it had to offer.

With his teeth tightening with every second passed in this world, he cranked his skull upwards and glared at the ceiling. He cursed the stars and the heavens above for punishing him like this. For making him feel like this.

Why send him here in a different timeline or a fake world or whatever this place was? What was his punishment for exactly? He had been trapped within the Underground and (had once) dreamed of the Surface with longing, just like every monster had. He had even suffered more than some monsters by having to face the torture of losing a loved one. He had endured the suffering for long enough and when finally rewarded by being able to live alongside with his friends on the Surface, he gets transported here.

What unspeakable offense did he commit to deserve this?

Feeling sick of wallowing in his own self-pity, he hopped off the bed with surprising ease. After that particular encounter, he would have thought that he would have been too drained to even lift his finger, but a lick of fatigue or pain hadn't made itself known to him.

He walked over to the window and rested his elbows on the window sill, staring up at an endless expanse of blackness. After a meaningless gaze later, he looked back down at his resting hands. Experiences of this place made an unwilling entrance in his mind and he found himself analyzing them.

How he reacted especially to the revelations and his encounters in this world also reached into his mind. It didn't also escape him on how out of character he was.

_"Quite the sight to see the judge cowering and running around like a dog with its tail behind its legs."_

He stood in complete silence as his own betraying mind replayed that line. The soft voice was repeated with such clarity, that it was as if a recording of that voice had been played right out in the open. His fists started to clench a tad bit in anger. In the short few minutes he had gotten to know that figure, he had already started to loathe everything about it. Its voice, presence, and looks.

Most of the things that came out of that thing's mouth were pure nonsense, but that one line it had said... He couldn't deny the truth in that statement, as much as he hated it.

How he was acting in this counterfeit world was as if a different person had possessed him during his stay. This wasn't the way the real Sans would have reacted. The calm, collected, and the laid-back skeleton had been transformed into some lonely, frightened child wandering a strange, new world.

This is what his Frisk was probably feeling during their time in the Underground. Scared and alone.

His soul started to clench in the slightest way as he thought about the cheerful little kid. His kid. Not this female and adult version of them that is probably located a few rooms over.

He would get back to all his friends. He would be escaping this place with the same amount of class and style that the real Sans would, too. Afterward, he, Papyrus, and Frisk would all finish the movie collection that they were supposed to watch.

With a hardened resolve and ignited vigor, hundreds of plans, ideas, and theories flew around his head, all related to his glorious escape. With a genuine smile painted across his face, he felt that he could make it back to everyone.

He even managed to ignore the feeling of someone watching him.

-*-

When Sans had agreed to continue forth in style, he took it literally.

The lonely sidewalk was joined with an equally lonely skeleton riding a pink tricycle with one too many glitters splattered all over the vehicle. Creaks and groans coming from the aged tricycle filled the night as the happy skeleton riding it was journeying to his destination.

While rummaging with stealth through the garage of the house awhile ago, he found the cute three-wheeler degrading in the corner of the garage, serving as useless space up until now. He had presumed that it was ~~his daughter's~~ the girl's little plaything when she was smaller. It had been forgotten, but now, it serves a purpose. 

And it wasn't like he was going to hold it ransom for the rest of time. He was simply "borrowing" the tricycle for a short amount of time. He couldn't waste his precious magic on a shortcut,  he realized a time ago, so he saw the tricycle as a means to preserve his magic. Plus, the tricycle looked stylish and was a perfect fit. 

So there he was, pedaling and pushing the tricycle to its very limits toward his goal. 

His workshop.

At least, he hoped that this world had something similar to his workshop. Or at the very least, some sort of laboratory in the Underground.

Yet as he explored the empty streets and the street names with confusion, he realized that this task would prove to be challenging. None of these houses held any resemblance to his own world. He could, thankfully, spot Mt. Ebott in the distance, almost hidden by the darkened night. Considering how small the mountain seemed, a tricycle probably wasn't the best means of transportation. But he had no real choice. There would be no bus scavenging the streets at this time of night. Nor would he even waste his time scourging a train station for it to be closed.

With a sigh, the tricycle came to a stop. Sans hopped off and steadied the vehicle with one hand and the other within his pocket. Narrowing his eye sockets towards the mountain, he judged how much of a strain it would put on him to jump from his spot in the middle of an unknown neighborhood to the top of Mt. Ebott. 

After a few seconds, he roughly estimated the magic that would be fizzled up in thin air for using this shortcut. And it wasn't good. Miles upon miles of distance traveled by one shortcut would mean the equivalent of him running several miles nonstop. With his current physique, Sans would have laughed at such a prospect. 

The jump would certainly be far from ideal for him, but being declared missing in the morning would also be far from ideal. The last thing he needed was a search party organized to look for him when discovered he wasn't being trapped in a bed.

Words of encouragement and mental preparation shot through him as he closed his eye sockets. With a crushing vice grip on the tricycle's seat, he commanded his magic to form a shortcut. 

He only felt the stabbing pain through his soul before he felt the rocky terrain under his slippers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short, but oh well.


End file.
